22 Riskiest Places for Catching Coronavirus

A Wheelie Cool Therapist
AWESOME, EDITORS' CHOICE, HOSPITAL, INSPIRATIONAL, PATIENTS, THERAPIST, USA | HEALTHY | MARCH 16, 2020
(I’m a physical therapist. My next patient is reportedly frail; she’s wheelchair-bound and doesn’t leave her bed.)

Patient: “Can you teach me to do a wheelie?”

(I couldn’t help but laugh. She ended up being a fairly healthy girl, albeit with less muscle tone due to her condition. The reason she hadn’t left her bed? The nurses had put a bed alarm on her — standard procedure for someone like her — and she hated moving with an IV.

I wasn’t allowed to teach her how to do a wheelie, but I was able to teach the basic concept. Get a friend to pull you back, practice balancing for a while, and then try it on your own. Shove the wheels, hard, and have someone catch you when you fly backward. I think she’ll be just fine.)

Enough Of This Song And Dance!
AUSTRIA, DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, HOSPITAL, JERK, NON-DIALOGUE, PATIENTS | HEALTHY | MARCH 14, 2020
CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

I am a musical theatre major, meaning that I spend the better part of my day in a ballet studio dancing or working out, and during what’s left of that day I’m either singing, acting, or both. After having an inherent heart condition fixed as a young teenager, I am proud to say that I am mostly healthy, a couple of minor-ish issues — as well as notorious unresponsiveness to most kinds of medication — aside.

About fifteen months ago, though, I get sick with something that is labelled “minor, superficial pneumonia” at first, and after sitting in my body for about two weeks turns into “asthmatic-spastic bronchitis.” Later, it becomes full-blown asthma bronchiale which, thanks to hyperreactive bronchia, I am very used to catching around twice a year. Usually, after a couple of weeks, it’s gone again, and my asthma falls asleep into insignificance once more.

Not this time.

The weeks come and go, and nothing happens. I’m fully incapable of doing anything at the conservatoire — but thankfully most of my professors are amazing and give me all the support they can possibly give me — and I’m getting more and more frustrated. My pulmonologist, after failing to succeed with several more antibiotics and cortisone therapies, is unwilling to give up on me and refers me to all possible colleagues. I get tested for pertussis, even for tuberculosis — and pretty much everything else — but they can’t find anything.

After just barely passing my semester with the worst possible acceptable grades, I go home for my semester break. By that time, this has gone on nearly two and a half months already. My pulmonologist tells me to continue my treatment, or rather, the search for a concrete diagnosis, as she is at her wit’s end.

I do, and they actually get the idea to do a bronchoscopy where, at last, they find not only a virus, but also bacteria that seem to cause all the trouble, sending me into a spiral of a constant asthma attack, which expresses itself with the symptoms of a chronic, constant bronchitis. They send me home with more antibiotics, telling me I can’t do much more but “sit it out and hope it’ll be gone in four to six months,” and put me on sick leave for my upcoming semester, since I can neither sing, dance, nor do anything on the acting front. I move back in at home with my most amazing, most supportive parents, and I begin my journey of doing not much of anything at all.

All throughout the time, I’m feeling flu-ish sick, with often insufferable headaches and horrible sore throats, short- as well as flat-breathed, and I obviously also cannot get rid of that cough. I have better days and worse, but the worse days definitely outweigh the good ones. Basically, I’m knocked out of my life entirely, and I often even have to think twice if I want to take a brief trip to town.

The months pass and nothing happens. There’s no improvement that lasts longer than two weeks and doesn’t follow a massive breach again. I lose another semester, as well as a fair share of friends. And, due to lack of movement, unsuccessful medication treatment, and, as I only just recently found out, my hypothyroidism acting up again, as well, I gain quite some weight; I’m not obese and still fit into most of my clothes, but you wouldn’t believe me the dance student, either.

I haven’t been idle over that time; I’ve been looking into common and alternative medicine and am in the middle of a doctor marathon, to not much avail except for the revelation of several more issues to work on, and about a month ago — as this has been going on for longer than a year already, and I’m beyond frustrated and only very desperately trying to scratch the final pieces of my patience together — I am referred to the pulmonologist department of my local hospital to finally treat my set-in-stone asthma diagnosis, as many doctors seem to purposefully ignore the bacterial aspect of my issues.

I have so many hopes for this appointment. But when I walk in, I see that, instead of [Doctor #2 ], who I am supposed to have the appointment with, I am met by a super young, and super overwhelmed-looking [Doctor #1 ].

I present him with all kinds of older to recent-ish but not super recent bloodwork and diagnoses and some very real proof that there are indeed physical issues to be resolved.

I explain, “…and this is why your colleague from the immunology department referred me over to you. It’s a rather pressing issue because my new semester is about to start, and I’d hate to miss the third one in a row. I really can’t do any dancing, singing, or much of anything at all, so I’m quite desperate about making progress. But unfortunately, I have issues with medication showing proper effect; it’s been like that since my heart issues way back as a child and starts with super simple things like common painkillers needing super high doses to start working.”

The doctor doesn’t even seem to listen properly. “Well, we couldn’t find anything physical in your test results…”

All they did was a basic lung function test, the results of which often fluctuate depending on my day.

I respond with confusion, “Um… But… I am officially diagnosed with asthma bronchiale already. Also, my lung function results fluctuate really badly, from unacceptable to–”

The doctor cuts me off. “There are no physical issues, and your lung function seems to be low but not concerningly so.”

“Well, as I explained before, it really fluctuates and–”

He interrupts again. “Well, this is definitely not a physical issue, and your lung function is–”

I cut him off this time. “But I really just said…”

[Doctor #1 ] ignores me and gets up to get [Doctor #2 ], who doesn’t even bother to sit down, and very clearly looks like she has no interest whatsoever in being here or helping me.

“Well, as my colleague already informed you, we cannot find any physical issues to work with, and clearly, you are not asthmatic.”

I sigh inwardly. “I really just explained to your colleague before that I have my official asthma diagnosis; I just need treatment for it, which is difficult because most kinds of medications have a really hard time to show any kind of effect besides the side effects, if they even work at all–“

[Doctor #2 ] says, interrupting me harshly, “If you were asthmatic, we would be able to treat you with cortisone inhalers, and those never showed any effect, so all you really have is a hyperresponsive larynx.”

I’m absolutely stunned at how they both have so successfully ignored anything I’ve said in the past couple of minutes. “But… as I said… and my lung function… I know it looks better now but it really, really depends on the day and… It’s really not only the cough; there are so many other issues that–”

Cut off again! “And your lung function isn’t that bad. I’ll just give you [super intense nervous system medication that is usually prescribed to epilepsy and severe anxiety patients, neither of which I even remotely suffer from] for your hyperreactive larynx. As for the fatigue, here’s a referral to outpatient rehab.”

[Doctor #2 ] gets up and leaves again without giving me the chance to say anything at all.

“It’s really not just the cough; it’s–“

[Doctor #1 ] proceeds to explain the effects of the just-prescribed medication without listening.

My mum, who had accompanied me, hasn’t had much of a word, either, so we just decide to give up on that lost cause and leave, both of us boiling inside. Not for one second do I consider having that prescription filled and taking this stuff, no matter how desperate I may be. Looking on the piece of paper, I was handed, I also find out that [Doctor #2 ] put “fatigue,” “chronic cough,” and “obesity” on my rehab prescription, which I am still livid about.

Later that day, I have a routine follow-up appointment with a new cardiologist, who not only is as appalled by this behaviour as we are, but also draws blood and reveals several very physical indeed issues, among them high inflammation signs, my hypothyroidism being at a not-dangerous-but-alarmingly-low level again, and the bacteria still being very, very present within my body. I’m referred to another pulmonologist immediately.

While I am, indeed, missing my third semester in a row, quite unsurprisingly, that new pulmonologist has not only found out that my lung function is currently at a new low point, but confirmed a “clearly asthmatic reaction and movement,” put that into the diagnosis, and promised to investigate if there is anything else behind it that I need to be treated for.

Fascinatingly enough, he has also listened to my medication issues and prescribed me two new inhalers that he’s hoping will help me as one of the 5% who actually do not react to common cortisone treatments.

Anti-Antibiotics
AUSTRALIA, DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, LAZY/UNHELPFUL, MEDICAL OFFICE | HEALTHY | MARCH 13, 2020
(I am twelve weeks pregnant. I have already seen one doctor who left the medical practice and I am seeing a new doctor. He goes through my test results, which the previous doctor had already spoken to me about.)

Doctor: “It says here that these numbers are fine, but the other doctor had you on an iron supplement. You don’t need that.”

Me: “Are you sure? The other doctor was quite worried about my numbers.”

Doctor: “I’m sure. And you are taking antibiotics for a UTI, but you don’t have one.”

Me: “The other doctor said I had proteins in my urine which indicated a UTI.”

Doctor: “No, definitely not.”

Me: “Okay, I need a referral for a twelve-week scan.”

Doctor: “You don’t need that.”

Me: “My daughter had a congenital heart defect; I’d prefer to get all scans.”

Doctor: “The only reason they want to diagnose in the womb is to do surgery in the womb.”

My Husband: “They needed us at a bigger hospital when she was born, in order to give her surgery.”

Me: “Can you just write the referral, please?”

Doctor: “You don’t need it, but if you insist.”

(We left the office and quickly realised he had written a referral for a twenty-week scan which the ultrasound place can’t take. I organised an appointment with another doctor who also checked my blood. She immediately pointed out that I had a UTI and should be taking antibiotics, and that I had low iron and should take a supplement.)

Being A Pill About The Pills
CALIFORNIA, PATIENTS, PHARMACY, STUPID, USA | HEALTHY | MARCH 12, 2020
(I work in a community pharmacy. I cannot tell you how many times I have heard this story in some variation, as have my staff and coworkers in this field.)

Patient: *comes up to the counter* “Hi, I need to fill my medication.”

Clerk: “Oh, of course. Which medication did you need today?”

Patient: “I don’t know; it’s on my profile.”

(The clerk reviews the patient’s profile, which has more than 25 prescriptions dating back years.)

Clerk: “Do you know which one? There’s a bit of a list on your profile.”

(At this point, they will usually say one of two things

Patient: “I don’t know. Just fill all of them.”

(Or…)

Patient: “It’s the white pill.”

(This is where the clerk will grab one of the pharmacists.)

Pharmacist: “I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t just fill everything on your profile, as we don’t know which of these medications you take or have stopped taking.”

(Also, the staff hate having to fill a dozen or more prescriptions, only for the patient to say they need one or two of them; the rest we have to put back, wasting all the time and effort we needed to fill.)

Pharmacist: “Do you know what you take it for? Diabetes? Blood pressure?”

Patient: “I don’t know. It’s the white pill.”

Pharmacist: “Most of the pills on your profile are white. Do you know how many times you take it? Was it big or small? The first letter of the name or the doctor who wrote it?”

Patient: “How am I supposed to know?! You’re the pharmacist! You should know this! IT’S A WHITE PILL! I KNOW IT’S ON THE COMPUTER!”

Pharmacist: “Sir, I need a little more information to go on than just the color. Here’s our card; you can go home, find it, and then call it in. Or bring the bottle with you next time and we can help you more.”

(The patient stomped off. Seriously, if you come to the pharmacy, please know something about what you want to pick up. The vast majority of all the pills on the shelf are white. Bring the bottle, take a picture of the bottle, write down the name. Something!)

This Doctor’s Stubbornness Runs Deep
DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, HOSPITAL, IGNORING & INATTENTIVE, LAZY/UNHELPFUL, MILITARY, USA | HEALTHY | MARCH 11, 2020
(Whenever I start coming down with any sort of respiratory infection, my voice gets deeper. The deeper the voice, the worse the illness is. I am stationed overseas in the nineties when a couple of coworkers notice that my voice is getting deeper. I go to Sick Call the next morning, and the corpsman, familiar with my history of pneumonia, sends me to the nearest US military hospital about 100 kilometers south to get seen by actual doctors.)

Doctor: “What brings you in today?”

Me: “I’m coming down with some sort of chest bug. Every time my voice gets deep, I get sick a few days later.”

Doctor: “What sort of symptoms are you having?”

Me: “At the moment, just the deep voice.”

Doctor: “That could mean anything. It’s probably acid reflux.”

(So far, the doctor has not examined me in any way.)

Me: “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? Sir?”

Doctor: “I’ll prescribe you an antacid for a week or so. You should also prop up the head of your bed just a bit, to help control the reflux.”

Me: “First, I’m not here for acid reflux. I’m coming down with some sort of twitching awfuls, because my voice is getting deep. When I start sounding like James Earl Jones, I always get pneumonia or bronchitis or some other chest ailment within a couple of days. Every time. Since the deep voice just started being noticeable, I’m trying to get ahead of the disease. Second, I have a waterbed. Propping up the head of the bed will have no effect.”

Doctor: *frowning* “Sure, it will work. Just put a boot under the corners of your headboard. This will raise your upper body slightly and help prevent acid reflux from irritating your larynx.”

Me: *sighing internally* “With all due respect, sir, you cannot tilt water. It always stays level.”

Doctor: “Just raise your headboard a couple of inches. You’ll see.”

Me: *sighing out loud this time* “Sir, it’s a waterbed. Here’s a demonstration: run a little bit of water into that portable basin next to the sink.” *pointing at the small metal basin*

Doctor: “Okay.” *runs water into the basin*

Me: “Now, tilt the basin up on one end.”

Doctor: *lifts one end of the basin slightly*

Me: “Notice that the water stays level, no matter how high you raise either end of the basin? That’s why raising the head of my waterbed will be less than useless.”

Doctor: “Oh. I guess you’re right. I suppose we’ll have to get you an appointment with the gastroenterology clinic to cure your reflux.”

Me: *facepalm* “Sir, I don’t have reflux. Could you please listen to my chest?”

(I was given a prescription for antacid and told to go back to work, all without the doctor conducting an examination. Three days later, I was back in the hospital as an inpatient… with pneumonia.)

Green With Envy Over Your Ability To See Color
ART/DESIGN, COWORKERS, HEALTH & BODY, RETAIL, USA | HEALTHY | MARCH 10, 2020
(I know my coworker and his wife pretty well — I went to their wedding — and they’re often in the store either helping with or participating in events when they aren’t working. They’ve finished both of their events this day and are going past the counter to leave, and they walk by me. I overhear their discussion, and they rope me in.)

Coworker: “It’s brown!”

Coworker’s Wife: “It is not! [My Name], what’s the color of my shirt?”

(Because she is wearing a BRIGHT RED JACKET, it’s pretty obvious what color the shirt is; however, if you just glanced at it, it might be misconstrued as brown.)

Me: “Uh, it’s green?”

Coworker: “Is it? But it’s brown!”

Me: *peering at it* “No, it’s green; it’s a dark green.”

Coworker’s Wife: “It’s emerald green.”

Coworker: “Well, it had better not be olive green, because that’s a color that doesn’t exist.”

Me: “But… What?”

Coworker’s Wife: “What color are [My Name]’s bracelets?”

(On my wrists are a paracord bracelet and a FitBit band, respectively.)

Coworker: “Well, I know that one is bright green and purple, and that one is… well, I dunno.”

Me: “[Coworker], it’s green. You’re colorblind.”

(I guess you learn something new every day — and this came as a bit of a shock to him, too!)

Paging Doctor Cymbeline
AUSTRALIA, FUNNY NAMES, HOSPITAL, WORDPLAY | HEALTHY | MARCH 9, 2020
(I work on the switchboard for a major hospital. We take a lot of calls, have a lot of options to put callers to, and are, unfortunately, very used to callers giving us very little information so we have to guess the rest.)

Me: “Good afternoon, switchboard.”

Internal Caller: “Yeah, can I speak to Imogen?”

Me: “Imogen who?”

Internal Caller: “I don’t know.”

Me: “Uh, okay. Do you know what Imogen does or what department she works in?”

Internal Caller: “I don’t know; the doctor just wants a copy of an X-ray.”

Me: *light-bulb moment* “OH! You want to speak to imaging!”

The Most Relatable Toddler
ADORABLE CHILDREN, DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, MEDICAL OFFICE, USA | HEALTHY | MARCH 8, 2020
(On the morning of my son’s two-year-old “well-child” checkup, he wakes up unusually grumpy. Shockingly, the news that he has to go to see the pediatrician does not improve his mood, so in an effort to get him to stop whining in the back of the car, I make an absolute rookie mistake. I promise him that after his appointment, I will take him on a trip to his favorite place. I then discover that I have the kind of two-year-old who neither understands nor accepts the concept of “after,” and as such, the following interaction happens at least six times in the next 45 minutes

Son: *wordlessly bawling at the top of his lungs*

Nurse: “Oh, no, what’s the matter?”

Son: “I WANT TO GO TO TARGET.”

Nurse: “Me, too, honey. Me, too.”

(At least he did not scream at the doctor. Instead, he gently wept and whispered, “Please. Target.”)

A Would-Be Thief Has His Eyes Opened
CRIMINAL & ILLEGAL, MEDICAL OFFICE, OPTOMETRIST/OPTICIAN, SOUTH CAROLINA, USA | HEALTHY | MARCH 7, 2020
(I work with patients at an eye specialist, checking vision and administering eye drops. One day, one of my newer coworkers comes to me about a patient.)

Coworker: “He’s complaining about his eye being sore, but he’s asking way too many questions about [expensive temporary numbing agent for office use only].”

(I trust his judgment, so I ask another technician to casually restock something in the exam room where the patient is waiting for the doctor and take the numbing drop with him when he’s done. Not ten minutes later, when the doctor goes to see him…)

Patient: “Hey, Doc, why can’t you give me some more of those numbing drops?”

Doctor: “Because too much is toxic for your eyes. A patient stole a bottle years ago and used it non-stop for days; it really damaged their eye.”

Patient: “Good thing you said that, Doc, because I was planning on stealing that bottle!”

(He said this without any embarrassment whatsoever! I only hope he learned not to mess around with that sort of thing.)

A Very Expensive Taxi
EMERGENCY SERVICES, LIARS/SCAMMERS, NEW JERSEY, PARTY, USA, WEATHER | HEALTHY | MARCH 6, 2020
(I worked in volunteer emergency medical services for years. Without charge to anyone, a person would call 911, which would then send me and a crew with an ambulance to provide emergency medical care and transportation to the hospital. Unfortunately, our experience was that during a blizzard, some people would call 911 with a fake medical emergency and then decline transportation to the hospital. This was done because they had learned that a snowplow would be dispatched in front of our ambulance to make sure we had a clear route to the house in question. This way, the person would have their street plowed before others. The request of the woman in this story, however, blows my mind. We arrive at the location following the snowplow that is clearing 18 inches of snow on the road. I trudge up to the door and ring the bell. A young woman with an alcoholic drink in her hand answers. There is loud music playing. This is obviously a “blizzard party.”)

Me: “[Town] EMS, who is having the emergency?”

Woman: “Yes, that’s me. Um, I have diabetes.”

(I know that anyone with diabetes should not be drinking an alcoholic beverage.)

Me: “Okay, let’s sit down and check your blood sugar. Are you feeling badly?”

Woman: “Oh, no, I don’t need anything like that. I already checked my blood sugar. It’s [number that’s a bit high, but not an emergency]. I need my insulin from my house in [Next Town Over]. I was wondering if you’d drive me to get it?”

Me: “Ma’am, we are an ambulance for medical emergencies. We cannot transport you from one house to another. The policeman over here, however, most likely will.”

Woman: “Oh, that’s great. But, um, after I get my insulin, could he bring me back here to the party? I’m having such a great time!”

(I just facepalmed. The policeman did give her a ride home to her insulin… but not back to the party.)

Science Flu Right Over Their Head
HOSPITAL, ILLINOIS, MATH & SCIENCE, PATIENTS, STUPID, USA | HEALTHY | MARCH 6, 2020
Nurse: *to a patient* “Do you want a flu shot while you’re here?”

Patient: “No, I don’t get flu shots.”

Nurse: “Oh. Have you had an adverse reaction to them?”

Patient: “No. Vaccines cause cancer. I know that because I’ve been to Japan. People there aren’t vaccinated, and no one gets cancer in Japan.”

To Censor Or Not To Censor: The Editors’ Dilemma
DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, NON-DIALOGUE, PENNSYLVANIA, PUNNY, SILLY, USA, VET | HEALTHY | MARCH 5, 2020
Our English Setter has had surgery to repair an ACL injury. She chews on her stitches and manages to pop one. We load her in the car to make the 45-minute drive to the vet, calling ahead to make sure they know we’re coming, as we know we’ll be pushing closing time for them.

We get there a few minutes before close and our vet comes into the waiting room to greet us. He picks up our girl and proclaims dramatically, “What did you do that for, you b****?!”

His vet tech (and we) totally lost it.

And he replaced the stitches with staples for us!

Nancy The Needler Strikes Again!
BLOOD DONATION, JERK, USA | HEALTHY | MARCH 4, 2020
(While I am very squeamish about needles, I like to give blood often because I am a universal donor. I have family that have needed transfusions, so I like to donate in honor of the people who have helped them. Volunteers are usually very nice and ease my needle anxiety throughout the process. Not this time, though.)

Volunteer: “Lay down here.”

Me: “Okay. Just so you know, I’m kind of scared of needles. It would really help if you could just count down before you prick me.”

Volunteer: “No. I’m not doing that. Lay down.”

Me: *getting nervous now* “Wait. Why can’t you just count down to let me know when you’re putting the needle in?”

Volunteer: “You’re a big girl; suck it up.”

(She grabs my arm and quickly uses a wipe to disinfect the area. I’m a wreck, so I jump when she does this, even though I’m not in pain. I’m just so anxious about this needle now.)

Volunteer: “You can’t jump like that when I put the needle in! I’ll have to do it over if you jump like that!”

Me: “I won’t jump if you just count down or let me know when you’re putting it in!”

(I’m shaking at this point and close to hyperventilating.)

Volunteer: “What’s the point of giving blood if you’re going to be so jumpy?!”

(Eventually, I calm down enough for her to prick my arm quickly. A few months later, I’m giving blood again and am relaying this story to another volunteer, who was kind enough to count down before putting the needle in.)

Nice Volunteer: “Was she skinny, tall, dark hair…?”

Me: “Yes! That was her!”

Nice Volunteer: “Oh, that was Nancy. We got a lot of complaints about her. She doesn’t come to blood drives anymore”

(Thankfully, I never saw her again.)

We’ve Heard Of Child Soldiers, But That’s Ridiculous
BLOOD DONATION, COLLEGE & UNIVERSITY, STRANGERS, STUPID, USA | HEALTHY | MARCH 3, 2020
(It’s circa 2009 and there is a blood drive going on at our school. I am sitting with a worker, doing the health screening questionnaire to rule out anything that would disqualify my blood. There are some questions that definitely shouldn’t apply, such as whether or not I’ve been in various parts of the world a decade before I was born, but I understand they need to be asked. Then, we get here

Worker: “Between 1988 and 1995, were you in the military or the dependent of someone in the military?”

Me: “Yes.”

(There’s a long pause.)

Worker: “So… you were a dependent?”

Me: *pause* “Yes.”

(Granted, I could have been more specific. But given that this blood drive was being held at a college, primarily with young adults who had only reached the age of conscription in the last five years, AND given that she had my birthdate of 1990 right in front of her on my paperwork… I didn’t think I needed to!)

That’s The Spirit?
BIZARRE, RELIGION, USA, VET | HEALTHY | MARCH 2, 2020
(I work for a vet. The phone rings.)

Me: “[Clinic], this is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Client: “Hi. I got a card in the mail that my cat is due for a checkup, so I’d like to schedule that.”

Me: “Certainly. May I have your last name?”

Client: “It’s [Last Name].”

Me: “Okay, and is this for [Cat]?”

Client: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay, according to our records, it looks like [Cat] is overdue for her upper respiratory and distemper vaccine. Would you like to have that boosted?”

Client: “Oh, I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to my husband about that. Can I let you know when I come in for the appointment?”

Me: “Of course.”

Client: “We’ll have to pray about it and dowse to decide.”

(As far as I know, dowsing refers to holding sticks to try and find groundwater. I have no idea how the client intends to use it to decide whether to vaccinate her cat.)

One Catty Pharmacist
CALIFORNIA, IGNORING & INATTENTIVE, JERK, NON-DIALOGUE, PETS & ANIMALS, PHARMACY, USA | HEALTHY | MARCH 2, 2020
I work as a veterinary assistant at a cat clinic and know basic information about feline pharmacology. My friend’s cat takes 5 mg of a medication every day to control stress-mediated urinary crystals. His prescription is for 45 of the 10 mg tablets, with directions to give half a tablet each day.

My friend went to pick up the cat’s prescription from a large corporate pharmacy after work and did not think to check the prescription until she got home. What the pharmacy gave her was 90 of the 10 mg capsules, which cannot be cut in half, with instructions to give one capsule each day, which would be a double dose. The margin for error in many cat medications is pretty small, and a double dose could well cause serious harm. They also charged her about three times what that particular drug should cost from that pharmacy.

My friend called the pharmacy to complain and was put on with the pharmacy manager, who angrily insisted she had called the vet, the vet had changed the prescription, and the pharmacy had filled it according to the vet’s instructions. My friend knew this was nonsense but couldn’t prove it at that time because the vet clinic had closed for the evening.

The next day, my friend called the vet, whose receptionists confirmed that the prescription hadn’t changed and the pharmacy had never called them. My friend went back to the pharmacy after work with the information from the vet clinic, and they refunded her money and filled the correct prescription so fast she didn’t even get to ask for a manager. Another friend and I are encouraging her to make a formal complaint with corporate, as the mistake of instructing a patient to take a double dose could get the patient killed if the drug was, say, heart medication or a sedative.

These Trainees Will Have You In Stitches
HEALTH & BODY, MEDICAL OFFICE, MILITARY, NEW HIRES, NON-DIALOGUE, USA | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 27, 2020
CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

The first time I have to have stitches is during annual training for the military. My unit is required to participate in an exercise across the country. However, there is a prep period of about a week to two weeks depending on the size of the unit for this particular exercise, where we are required to be present and mostly do checks of equipment.

During this time, I am messing with my knife while by my bunk. I go to close the blade and nick my finger pretty bad, about half an inch deep on the tip of my index finger, right to the side of the nail to about the middle of the finger pad. I immediately go to my first aid kit to get gauze, thinking I’ll be able to stop the bleeding with direct pressure. I manage to reduce the amount of blood pouring from my finger a little, but after about an hour it hasn’t stopped so I am escorted to the aid station.

It isn’t during sick call hours, so it’s pretty slow and I’m admitted quickly. Despite reserving non-sick call hours for life, limb, and eyesight situations, they agree to see me. The major who is the equivalent of a surgeon or doctor comes in and analyzes the wound. It’s still bleeding and the flesh is separated, so he determines that I’ll need three sutures to keep the wound closed. I’m asked the question that would lead to me having the worst pain I have experienced in my life.

“Since it isn’t a life-threatening wound, would you mind if we let a few trainees inject the novocaine apply the stitches?”

Ever so ignorant, I agree; besides, my mistake can be another person’s learning opportunity, so why not? I agree and I meet the two trainees who are my rank, and a nurse who is a non-commissioned officer walks in to supervise as well as the major.

As a boy, whenever I got nervous or fearful around needles and the like, my father taught me to overcome these fears by looking at the procedure and concentrating on the pain level and how the fear never really justified how much it actually hurt.

As they prepared the numbing agent and stuck me once, I felt nothing; the major concluded that they’d missed and had them do another dose. My finger felt numb at the base but the tip where they would be working still had full feeling. After triple the normal dose and six different tries, my finger was now swollen from the local anesthetic and I could still feel my fingertip. I could not receive any more medication, so they decided to continue anyway.

I’ve dealt with needles. They didn’t hurt too much except that the trainees weren’t smooth on the exit and tore a bit while removing the needle. That’s not too bad; I give blood regularly and I’ve experienced it before. However, I saw the hook that was about to be sent through my body three times and I shuddered. These trainees had likely never done this before on a live subject. Granted, it wasn’t that bad of a wound, but it was still in one of the most nerve-rich centers on the body.

I tried to look at the procedure as the hook was pushed in for the first time and I nearly teared up from the pain. The NCO saw this and went into what I later learned was trauma nurse practices of distraction and breathing exercises. We talked about family and other subjects and when the pain got worse, she had to remind me to breathe. Twice more, they put the string through the skin while I forced myself to hold my hand as still as possible. The first two were done by the trainees and the last by the major. The major had experience so it wasn’t as terrible and took considerably less time.

When I was done, they wrapped it up and sent me back to my tent with no meds or painkillers — which I sort of understand — just with training, gauze, and other medical supplies to change the bandages every 24 hours.

I still had to go through the week-long exercise, and my bandages were removed in the field with a pair of scissors a week later. I still have the scar from the uneven stitching and I shudder whenever I think about having inexperienced medical staff perform stitches without effective anesthetic. To this day, I don’t trust local anesthetic by anyone, and I had to be put under general when I had my wisdom teeth removed about two months later

This Story Will Take Your Breath Away
CALL CENTER, GERMANY, HEALTH & BODY, IMPOSSIBLE DEMANDS | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 23, 2020
(I work in an inbound 24/7 call centre while studying. We take calls for over 150 different companies and can rarely do more than take their details and have them be called back, but we are not supposed to let the callers know that. On one of my last Saturday night shifts, my coworker receives a call from an elderly man for a company that sells and waits on equipment for patient care, including oxygen tanks for private use. Extra note: on weekends we rarely get any calls, so there are only two people in the office at a time.)

Coworker: “This is [Company]; how can I help you?”

Old Man: “My oxygen tank isn’t working. Please send someone to help me.”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, but we are already closed. I can make a note for support to call you back, but they will only see it on Monday. Do you require the oxygen supply constantly?”

Old Man: “I need my oxygen tank and it isn’t working. Please help me.”

Coworker: “I am really sorry, but there is nothing I can do until Monday. Please hang up and call emergency services; they will be able to help you until we can get your oxygen tank fixed.”

Old Man: “No! These are your oxygen tanks! You have to help me! Please help me!”

(They keep going in circles like this for almost 15 minutes, with the man repeating the phrase “please help me” until he hangs up on my coworker, but not before she has convinced him to tell her his name and address.)

Coworker: “I don’t know what to do. I don’t think he’s going to call an ambulance. What if something happens to him?”

Me: “Maybe we should call an ambulance for him to be sure? You got his address, right? Lack of oxygen can make people very confused, I think.”

(My coworker called our supervisor, because we are not technically allowed to make external calls. He said he didn’t know, either. We could call emergency services if we wanted to, but if the man decided to sue for breach of privacy, it would be on us. I decided to call the non-emergency line instead of my coworker, since they couldn’t fire me, anyway. The operator seemed more than a little weirded out by me calling an ambulance for a stranger I had never seen or spoken to but had an address and a name for, but he thanked me and my coworker for the effort. I never found out what happened to the old man, but I hope he was okay, whether he needed that ambulance or not. Emergency services are completely free here, by the way, for you concerned US citizens out there. PSA: At least around here, if you suspect someone’s life is in danger, you are totally allowed to disregard any data protection slips your workplace had you sign.)

That Takes A Lot Of Balls
EDITORS' CHOICE, HARASSMENT, HEALTH & BODY, HOSPITAL, TEXAS, USA | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 21, 2020
(I have to visit the hospital due to a wave of nausea that was bad enough to keep me from going to work. The doctor decides to have an ultrasound done on my abdomen to check for anything that may be causing it. The radiologist doing the scan is a rather gorgeous girl that looks like she’s in her mid-20s.)

Me: “I have to ask. What’s the weirdest thing anyone’s ever asked you while you do this?”

Radiologist: “You’re not gonna believe this. Sometimes I have to do ultrasounds on guys’… um… testicles, and in the middle of it, they start asking me if I’m seeing anyone, or if I wanna go out, things like that.”

Me: “Wait. They’re having ultrasounds done on their balls and they think they have a shot?”

Radiologist: “Yeah. And it’s always the ones who need them scanned, too. It’s never the ones who need their chest or anything else scanned; it’s always the ones who need their testicles scanned. Maybe it’s because my hand has to be… you know, down there to do the scans.”

Me: *laughs* “Ever been tempted to tell them, ‘You know I’m taking pictures of something that might not be working, right?’”

Radiologist: *bursts out laughing*

What Part Of “NO MORE” Do You Not Understand?
HEALTH & BODY, HOSPITAL, IGNORING & INATTENTIVE, NURSES, USA | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 19, 2020
(I go into labor with my son. My mother-in-law drives me to the hospital and they admit me right away as I am dilated enough that the birthing process can begin. I should note that the pregnancy has not been the best as I was a super sick one and had additional complications that necessitated ultrasounds — the invasive kind — every week after the first three months of pregnancy. I already decided long before we had our child that this would be my first and last child, as I have four stepkids, all of whom fulfill my life. Skip ahead to the labor. I ask for an epidural as my pain tolerance is low. The epidural has to be administered three times due to an unknown condition with scoliosis. The first time, nothing happens but lots of pain. The second time, only a portion of my body is numb but not the parts I need. Finally, the third time, it is bliss. I no longer feel pain, only enough pressure to get through the task. Everything goes smoothly from there. Then, I ask to be put back on the depo shot as I do not want to ever get pregnant again. I joke that I would get a hysterectomy if I could.)

Nurse #1 : “Oh, honey, don’t worry. Let’s give you some time to let the pain meds wear off and think about birth control later. You are just scared because of your recent pregnancy.”

Me: “No, thank you. Can you please put me on the shot ASAP? It’s not because I disliked the experience; this was a decision made long before I became pregnant. I only want one child, as I am happy with our home dynamics as they are.”

(The next day, I ask another nurse for the depo shot.)

Nurse #2 : “Okay, I’ll look into it.”

(Nothing ever happens. The next day, with another nurse…)

Me: “Hi. The pain medicine has worn off, which I know was a concern for the first nurse, and I would like to receive my depo shot now, while I am still admitted in the hospital.”

Nurse #3 : “Okay, I will look into it and see what we can do, but you are still very emotional from just having a child. Maybe give it a while before you decide to go back on birth control.”

Me: “Thank you, but I am certain I do not want to have any more children, and it’s not because of the labor experience I had.”

(Quite a time has passed, and I realize they are not looking into it for me. My final and last day in the hospital, I ask yet another nurse who is still skeptical, but finally, I get the shot and am happy to leave. Fast forward to my regular gynecologist appointment. The nurse asks me to take a pregnancy test and I say I will, but there is no need as my spouse has gotten a vasectomy. Only then do I realize she is one of the nurses from my time in the hospital; my gynecologist office is a part of the hospital that specializes in complications so for some things, the staff is the same.)

Nurse #3 : “Oh, I thought you were kidding about not having any more kids.”

Me: “No, I wasn’t, and since it is easier for men to get a vasectomy… that’s what we did. The depo shot now is to keep my endometriosis under control and a backup in case the vasectomy ever reverses itself.”

(Needless to say, I stopped using them as my doctor’s office and found a different one.)